


Help Me Hold On to You

by universallongings



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: CW_2020, Chenford Week, Chenford Week Day 2, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universallongings/pseuds/universallongings
Summary: Lucy Chen took care of people. She gave hugs. She listened to problems. She sent food after surgeries and paid for drinks after breakups. It was part of who she was—a switch she couldn’t turn off.Which made it very annoying to find herself in love with a man who clearly didn’t like people taking care of him.ORTim gets hurt on the job, and Lucy learns that sometimes people are terrible patients for a reason.
Relationships: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 28
Kudos: 136
Collections: Chenford Week 2020





	Help Me Hold On to You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of Chenford Week: Hurt! The title for this fic comes from “The Archer” by Taylor Swift.

Lucy Chen took care of people. She gave hugs. She listened to problems. She sent food after surgeries and paid for drinks after breakups. It was part of who she was—and she loved that about herself.

Which made it very annoying to find herself in love with a man who clearly didn’t like people taking care of him.

“I’ve got it,” Tim snapped as he grabbed the ice pack she was trying to ease over the black eye blooming across his features. 

Lucy winced at both the harsh colors of the bruise quickly taking shape on his face and the harsh tone of his words. It could have been a lot worse—breaking up a knife fight and emerging with only two stitches on your cheek and a black eye was considered a good day in their line of work—but she still spent the day vacillating between worry after she got Angela’s call that morning and annoyance that he seemingly wasn’t going to tell her himself until she came home to see him in all his banged-up glory watching the last few innings of the Dodgers game on TV.

Lucy gingerly sat down next to him, her hands coming up to examine the bandage covering the wound on his cheekbone. “You sure you’re okay?” she questioned, her voice gentle and searching in the way that had allowed her to sneak past his defenses so many times before. This time, though, she was met with fierce resistance, as he shifted away from her touch.

“I told you I’m fine, Boot.” The nickname held none of its usual affection, instead feeling like a return to the days when he would bark orders at her, shutting down any attempts she made to connect with him.

It didn’t work then, and it wasn’t going to work now. 

She sighed deeply, tucked her legs under her body, and turned so she was facing him on the couch. “Listen, you can put on this tough guy act all you want, but I’m not letting you push me away.” She reached out to him and took it as a positive sign when he didn’t bat away the hand she rested on his thigh. Emboldened, she continued, “I was worried today, Tim.”

He lifted his eyes to hers. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” 

There it was. 

In those sad, tired eyes, Lucy saw it all—the boy who learned how to hide the bruises his dad gave him so his teachers wouldn’t ask questions, the veteran who came back from overseas and had no one to comfort him when the nightmares woke him up in a cold sweat, the husband who pushed down his own pain to help his wife fight her demons. 

Suck it up. Be a man. Don’t ask for help. 

_I can take care of myself._

“I know you can,” Lucy replied, her fingers moving under his chin, forcing him to hold her gaze as she added, “But you don’t have to—not anymore.”

She could see the beginning of an argument forming on the corner of his lips as he dropped the ice pack from his face, so she cut him off. “I like taking care of people, and I think I’m pretty good at it.” She raised her eyebrows, daring him to challenge her. When he stayed silent, she finished, “So let me take care of you.” 

All the fight drained out him at those words, and he leaned over to slowly, completely cover her mouth with his. Words still didn’t always come easy to him at times like this, so she knew how to ride the waves of his body when the emotions were too strong—finding the truths in every touch and holding them close to her heart. 

As they broke apart, she tentatively reached for the ice pack. She smiled as he placed it in her hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She felt him tense a little as she settled the cold compress on his cheek again, but she had a feeling it wasn’t from the chill. “Growing up, I had no choice—I had to be tough. And that only got worse in the Army. Then Isabel had her own shit to deal with.” He exhaled, and she felt the weight of years escape in that breath. “I’m just not used to somebody trying to help.” 

She shook her head, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Well get used to it, buddy, because I’m not going anywhere.” 

She wasn’t. She knew it in her bones. This wasn’t just for fun.

This was for forever.

That should have terrified her. But he was looking at her like maybe he finally wanted someone to take care of him. And that made her feel like maybe she finally wanted something that would last.

“I love you,” he said softly, the exhausting toll of the day starting to creep into his sleepy voice. 

She kissed him gently on the patch of skin right below his stitches, enjoying the feeling of his smile under her lips. “I love you, too, even though you’re a terrible patient.” 

He laughed lightly before he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Thanks for putting up with me,” he said—teasing and painfully sincere all at once. 

She dropped the ice pack from his face and started running her fingernails up and down over his forearm, the soothing pattern lulling him into the sleep he needed after a difficult day. She knew she’d need to get him into bed eventually or else his neck wouldn’t want to turn in the morning, but for now, she’d let him rest. 

She pressed her lips against his forehead. “No need to thank me,” she said into his skin.

She liked taking care of people. 

And she _loved_ taking care of Tim.


End file.
